


don't tip the coffin

by Drywall37



Series: Young Dracula Except I Hate Canon So [1]
Category: Young Dracula (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Feelings, First Time, It's not very good I promise, Love Confessions, M/M, No Beta, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, We Die Like Men, author has a fixation on hips don't mention it, fucking forgot to put a summary the first time jesus, unedited, wrote the title as a joke and it stuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-23 13:23:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20008993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drywall37/pseuds/Drywall37
Summary: They’ll go at Vlad’s pace. After all, Robin isn’t the one with a dick up his ass.





	don't tip the coffin

**Author's Note:**

> help i've fallen (into this fandom) and i can't get up

Robin’s hands flex around Vlad’s bony hips, fingers digging into the pale skin. He’s gripping the vampire’s hips too hard, he knows, but he’s trying to maintain any sort of composure. It’s difficult, especially when Vlad is squeezing him so tight. 

He glances down, to where they’re connected, and his vision swims, and he has a feeling they hadn’t already been laying down the sight of Vlad, impaled, would have been enough to knock him flat. 

“ _ Oh, _ ” Vlad breathes, thighs trembling from supporting most of his weight. His knees are boxing in Robin’s hips, thin hands pressing lightly on the human’s chest to steady himself. 

Vlad’s not even fully seated yet, hovering above Robin’s form. 

“Maybe,” Robin swallows, blinking hard. “Maybe, uh. More lube.” 

“It’s, it’s,” Vlad breathes heavily, eyelashes fluttering, “I’m fine. This is fine. It’s just, um. A lot.” 

“We can stop, if you want-”

“No! No, it’s good, it’s good. Just give me a second, Robin. I’ve never done this with another guy before.” Vlad laughs breathlessly. 

Robins face flushes. He hasn’t, either, but he likes the idea of being Vlad’s first. 

Vlad sinks a few inches lower, groaning. Robin strokes his thighs awkwardly, unsure what to do with his hands. 

Actually, when he actually thinks about it, the entire thing has been awkward. Which is why he’s not thinking about it. 

The vampire is almost down all the way. He starts, stops, starts, and suddenly there’s not only a weight on his dick but a weight on his thighs, as well. 

Vlad sort of sits there, on Robin’s thighs, clenching and squeezing. 

Robin sort of thinks he must have the patience of a saint at this point, but he’s not about to pressure Vlad into hurrying. He doesn’t want the vampire to get hurt, especially not because he rushed during sex. He’d never live it down. 

They’ll go at Vlad’s pace. After all, Robin isn’t the one with a dick up his ass. 

“Okay, okay. We can-” Vlad tosses his head slightly, sending his dark hair spinning around his head, illuminated in the moonlight like a halo. 

Well, fuck. That was cheesy, wasn’t it Branagh?

“We can try moving,” Vlad finishes his thought, dragging Robin’s attention back to the situation at hand.

Robin nods, throat thick. He slides his hands up, tracing along Vlad’s thighs to grip his hips again. Slowly, carefully, he rolls his hips. Vlad tightens, fingers digging in to Robin’s chest. 

The vampire rocks gently on Robin, feeling it out slowly, methodically. Robin rubs a circle into his hip, focusing on anything, anything but the light waves of pleasure rolling through him.

Vlad lifts himself up, using his legs and his hands, slowly sliding off of Robin’s dick and lowering himself down again. Robin’s thigh muscles tense, and his jaw clenches. It’s good. God, it’s good. But Vlad’s face is tight, his eyes narrowed. He looks uncomfortable. 

Robin grabs the vampire’s hips, stopping him from moving again. “Wait, hold on,” He huffs, squirming and wiggling himself so he’s half propped up on his pillows. Each time his hips shift, Vlad winces, wiggling and shifting to follow Robin. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Robin pants, relaxing into his pillows and loosening his grip on Vlad’s hips. He glances down and winces as he realizes he’d been digging in too hard; angry red marks mar Vlad’s pale, boney hips. “Sorry.” 

“It’s okay, I don’t mind, it doesn’t even,” Vlad whispers. He seems more comfortable like this, resting against Robin’s chest, his cheek pressed to Robin’s shoulder. 

“Is this better?” Robin asks, finally in control of his breathing.

Vlad nods against his neck, slow and easy. Robin turns his face and presses a kiss to the top of Vlad’s head, bringing his arms up to wrap around the vampire’s waist. 

Vlad shifts his feet so he’s kneeling over Robin, legs in a better position to support himself, then slowly drags himself up the length of Robin’s cock. He’s almost at the end, and for a second Robin thinks he’s going to slip right off, when he begins his descent. It’s slow and cautious, nothing like the wild, frenzied porn Robin’s watched before, but it feels good, better than anything he’s tried before. Vlad is so, so tight and hot and warm and he already feels like he’s going to come already. 

As Vlad begins to pick up speed, Robin starts rolling his hips in tandem. It’s sloppy and awkward and it  _ can’t  _ feel good, but Robin doesn’t want his partner to have to do all the work. 

Its around the fourth or fifth roll that Robin strikes it. Vlad slips, gasping and sinking abruptly halfway through his motion, sitting upright to look at the human. 

“Do that again,” he presses urgently, face flushed. Robin complies, trying his best to hit the exact same spot as before. He succeeds, if Vlad’s reaction is anything to go by. 

The vampire moans and throws his head back, the long, pale line of his neck illuminated in the moonlight. It’s a show of trust, Robin knows, that the vampire is so willing to display such a vulnerable (and important) part of himself. 

He’s more bare, now, than when he first stripped naked. 

Robin surges up, almost tipping Vlad over, and latches onto his throat, laying heavy, open mouthed kisses along Vlad’s pale collar bone and up across his shallow Adam’s apple. Vlad lets out a surprised moan, tipping his head back further and to the side. He tightens around Robin, an absolute vice grip, and digs his long fingers into the human’s dark hair, clutching close. 

It’s hard to move in this position, and Robin slows to a halt. Vlad squirms uncomfortably in his lap, whimpering. 

Shifting his legs, twisting and maneuvering, Robin manages to lay Vlad down on the bed. They’ve completely flipped from the starting position, but Robin likes this. Towering above Vlad, boxing his head in with his forearms. The pale man wraps his legs around Robin’s hips, squeezing the human closer. 

The angle is better, placing the tip of Robin’s cock right where it needs to be. 

Robin rolls his hips experimentally, his newfound power. Vlad jerks in surprise, head tossed back on the bedspread and his throat once again exposed, mouth dropping open. 

“Oh, oh, fuck,” he whimpers, writhing. Robin dips down, pressing his mouth to the sensitive hollow of Vlad’s throat, kissing and sucking and biting. He can feel the vibrations from Vlad’s throat, tasting the noises. 

He begins to pick up speed, thrusting into Vlad with surprising force. The vampire’s feet slip and slide against his back, knees clenching weakly against his sides. His arms wrap around Robin’s neck, keeping the human pressed to his throat. 

Vlad’s legs drop from around Robin, feet pressing into the sheets. He uses the extra leverage to lift his lower body, arching up against Robin. He whimpers, gasps, and comes, spilling seed across his pale stomach before slumping down, limbs jellied. 

Robin can’t slow his momentum, still thrusting into Vlad’s lax form, sucking bites into pale collarbones. The thin man whimpers, clenching weakly around Robin. He’s oversensitive, and contact with his prostate hurts, so Robin changes his angle, hooking an arm under Vlad’s left leg and lifting it slightly. Vlad twists his body, upper torso facing away from Robin, and buries his face in the rumpled blankets that had been shoved to the foot of the bed earlier. 

It doesn’t take long for Robin to come, his body tensing at the sensation. He lets go of Vlad’s leg, the limb dropping to the bed, and leans on his elbows, panting slightly for a few seconds before pulling out. Vlad gasps weakly, fingers spasming lightly in the fabric of the blankets.

Robin rolls off of the vampire, flopping down on the bed and gasping. Vlad closes his legs, lying on one side and facing away from Robin. He’s silent, laying a few inches away from Robin. 

Robin turns his head, tracing the pale silhouette of Vlad in the moonlight. The shape of his thin shoulders, the dip of his waist and faint swell of his hips. His thighs, pressed tight together. Naked. Exposed. Beautiful. 

“Hey,” he says, voice low and rough. 

Vlad says nothing, does nothing, and Robin’s heart drops. He rolls onto his side, reaching out to rest his hand along Vlad’s waist, fingers spreading out lightly. 

“Vlad,” he says, concerned. Did he do something wrong? Did Vlad regret it?

“I’m thinking,” the dark haired man next to him says finally, voice soft. 

Robin swallows, but doesn’t say anything for a long couple of minutes. 

“Do you… regret it?” He asks, throat tight. 

A long silence, then, “No. I just… never thought I’d be here. I loved you, you know. Those years in Stokely. I didn’t know it then, but I loved you.” 

Robin rolls onto his back, arms flopped loosely beside him, as he absorbs this. The room is silent, aside from the faint clicking of the ceiling fan. 

Abruptly, he begins laughing. A laughter that starts small, but billows through his chest and throat, into a deep belly laugh. 

Vlad twists around, leaning on one elbow to look at Robin with a hurt and confused expression. 

Robin props himself up on his left elbow, reaching out with his right hand and dragging Vlad down for a kiss. It surprises the vampire, and he pulls back quickly, leaving it chaste. 

“We’re doin’ this all out of order aren’t we, Vladdi? The mutual love confessions should have come before the mindless sex.” Robin says, grinning. Vlad considers him, lowering his eyelashes to peer at him through a curtain of sorts. He twists around, slinging one leg and one arm over Robin so he can box him in, dipping down to kiss the human. 

He pulls back, pupils wide. “I love you, Robin Branagh. I loved you back in Stokely, and I love you now.” 

Robin smiles, cheeks dimpling, and tangles his fingers in Vlad’s hair. “I know, ya damned bloodsucker. I never stopped lovin’ you, either.” He tugs him down, bumping their foreheads together. 

Vlad snorts, flopping down next to Robin and curling up beside him. 

“Vlad,” Robin says, arm curled around the vampires shoulders. He hums curiously, not opening his eyes. 

“Vlad, we can’t sleep like this. We’re facing the wrong way. I know you probably don’t feel it, but I’m cold. Also,” and here he flushes, glad it’s dark so the undead  _ fiend  _ laying next to him can’t see it. “I need to take the condom off.” 

Vlad laughs, muffling it in Robin’s shoulder, before sitting up. He peels the used condom off, tying it and pacing into the bathroom where he presumably throws it away. Robin, of course, doesn’t move. In fact, he dozes off a little. 

“Get up,” Vlad says, standing impatiently. Robin opens one eye, peering lazily at Vlad. He’s put on a long shirt, one of Robin’s, which is more than the human can say about himself, and wiped his stomach off. Robin fakes a snore, rolling away from the vampire. Yes, he’s the one who brought up cleaning up. No, he doesn’t plan on actually doing anything. 

Cold arms slide under his side, lifting him with ease. He squawks, flails, and eventually flops onto the ground with a thud, sheets and blankets trailing after him. 

Vlad shakes his head, yanking the sheets out from under the human and proceeding to make the bed. Robin grumbles, dragging himself upright and rummaging for his discarded underwear. 

The bed is made quicker and neater than when Robin does it, which is surprising considering Vlad has spent more time sleeping in coffins than not. 

Vlad steps over Robin’s form on the floor, dropping a pillow onto his face.

“Get up, lazy,” he says, setting one knee on the edge of the bed and turning to look at him. 

“Aw,” Robin grins cheekily. “But the view is so nice from down here.” 

Vlad turns away, and Robin has a feeling if he had a working circulatory system he’d be blushing. 

The vampire stoops down and scoops Robin up easily. There’s almost a foot of difference between their heights, and Vlad usually looks like a firm breeze would snap him in half, but underneath his thin frame Robin knows there’s a hidden power. If Robin didn’t know about the super strength, he’d be pretty impressed. 

Actually, he’s still impressed. And more than a little turned on. 

The vampire dumps him on the bed, flopping down next to him and curling into his side. The moonlight illuminates the purpling marks on his throat, and Robin feels a flush of pride. 

“Stop. Why is your heart beating so fast. Just go to sleep.” Vlad murmurs into his shoulder, rubbing his cheek against Robin’s bare skin. 

The human laughs, pulling the blanket higher and curling an arm around the pale man. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> part one of "local writer vetoes canon"


End file.
